


To The Rock Gods

by BlackRoseGardens



Series: The Hottest Tribute Band In The World [1]
Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Adventure, Angst and Humor, Cast full of stupid, Gen, Mostly Gen, Original Character-centric, Rock and Roll, Sarcasm, Slice of Life, Tribute Band, mostly OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoseGardens/pseuds/BlackRoseGardens
Summary: Looking for friends to call your own? Want to make it big in the rock n' roll world? Just bored of your current life and desiring something new?Enter Love Gun, a KISS tribute band formed by a group of teens, with really nothing better to do. They just spend their days in spandex, makeup, and occasionally rocking out at a gig. But this ain't your average tribute band. The members of Love Gun all have their secrets to hold and soon find themselves pulled into a worldwide threat in which they must team up with their idols to stand a chance.Very OC-centric at first. KISS will show up in later chapters.
Series: The Hottest Tribute Band In The World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091579





	1. Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

She couldn’t remember the last time she had a proper sleep.

Whether she woke up because of the weather, a car driving past, a boot kicking at her sides, telling her to scram, it was all the same and it was a sign of a rough day. The city streets were no place for a young teenage girl, especially one so vulnerable like her. She could easily be taken advantage of.

She had to count her lucky stars nothing malicious had ever happened to her yet. For the most part, she was easy to ignore. That was fine by her, because she didn’t like to stand out. Attention was scary and she much preferred to hide instead. In the daytime, she joined the common day people walking to and fro and at night, she rested in whatever places she could find.

She was curled up outside what looked like a sleazy disco club. Or maybe it was at some point; disco was dead and it probably was never coming back. She didn’t mind the music the club liked to blast. Granted, it was hard for her to have such strong opinions on a lot of things, because so many of them seemed out of her grasp.

But she’d happily listen to their cheesy catalogue of 70s nostalgia. It was music. Sound. One of the few things that kept her going and cemented her in the city. Here, there was always a melody to be heard. And listening to them was a small yet faint reminder of what life had to offer.

The brick wall was cold and hard. She rested her head against it, wishing she hadn’t left her hat at that bus stop. Her light brown hair was a tangled mess and she shook it out so it would fall over her ears and provide them some kind of cover. It was early September, but the blowing winds and dark clouds did nothing to provide any kind of warmth.

She was exhausted. She was always exhausted. As she shimmied around into a comfortable position, she could relax a little and slowly drift off into an uneasy sleep…

“Aw yeah! Score, bay-bee!”

Her eyes snapped open. There were four young men looming over her. Three of them had long messy hair tied back with scarves, leather jackets with ripped band T-shirts underneath, and extremely tight pants. The fourth was dressed in all black, holding his arms and staring down at her with a blank look.

She felt very small.

One of the men, who was carrying a guitar case, offered her his hand. “Well, hello there miss! What’s a lady like you doing on the ground?”

“I’m sorry. I can leave.”

The tallest guy laughed as he placed his head on her shoulder and she felt a chill run down her spine. “Oh, no worries. We don’t mind, do we boys? You here to see us play?”  
“Ummmm…”  
“You’d make an excellent groupie,” the third man said. The fourth guy in all black, who she assumed was a bouncer of sorts, still didn’t reply. But he cocked his head slightly, as if studying her.

In this cramped space surrounded by three men who made her uncomfortable, there was no time to slip into her persona. Or a place to hide. Forget sleep, she just wanted to get out of here.

She let out a hysterical laugh, but the band just laughed with her. No, this is not what she wanted!

“Hey, bouncer! You mind if we bring a plus one?”

“Now hold on,” the bouncer finally said. “She was clearly trying to sleep outside the door here. How old is she anyway? Looks a little on the young side.”

The guitarist scoffed. “Does it matter?”  
“If she’s underage, yes it does. I am not breaking the law and risking my job so you dumbasses can have someone to sleep with. Hold is she?”  
“Well, we can just say she’s like, twenty, but just-”

“I want to hear it from the girl!” The bouncer’s voice boomed through the night air. He faced her and her knees wanted to buckle under her. “How old are you?”  
“S-seventeen.”

The band suddenly backed away from her, giving each other guilty looks. The bouncer sighed loudly as they scrambled past him into the club, leaving her by herself. She shot the bartender a thankful glance. Maybe he understood.

“Can I stay here for the night?”  
“I’m sorry, but I could land in huge trouble for letting someone underage onto the property. So you can’t stay here.”  
“Please. It will only be for a couple hours, and then I’ll leave. I just need a place to sleep.”

The bouncer’s face softened a little and she silently cursed herself for being so hopeful. It wasn’t his fault that he was just looking out for himself. She didn’t blame him. She was a lowly street urchin after all, and she certainly wasn’t worth all this fuss.

The bouncer rubbed his chin, then disappeared inside the club. After a few minutes, he came out again. This time, he was accompanied by a woman somewhere in her early forties with bright pink hair and wearing a red suit underneath a denim jacket.

The woman pointed to the side of the building. “Follow to the other side here, and there will be some stairs. They lead to an apartment building above the club. It’s empty, but there’s no heating or utilities. You may stay there for the night. Help yourself to any of the food in the cupboard or beddings, but please don’t steal anything.”

“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief. The two people in front of her, practical angels to her, just nodded, then went back inside. She caught the word of the back of the woman’s jacket written in the rhinestones, the name of the club.

THE SKYTON.

She found the apartment, slipped open the front window, and climbed in. The roof over her head blocking out the wind felt like an absolute heaven.

She stayed for nearly 24 hours, but as the sky grew dark again, she knew she needed to leave. For some reason, paranoia kept her from staying rooted. It was stupid, because nobody would ever waste their breath chasing after her. She had come to accept that she was just a kid in the middle of nowhere.

Simply not worth anyone’s time.

Back on the streets, she found herself on a bridge overlooking a river. She reached into the pocket of her tattered jacket to retrieve a lighter. It was the only possession she owned.

Her uncle liked to collect rock memorabilia. And he had a set of lighters with logos and faces and instruments on them. After all, lighters were cheap and easy to collect, and he always insisted on having one handy, just in case.

The KISS-themed one in her hands had almost all of its fluid in it. The design was faded and chipped. She used to be able to see all four band members staring back at her, but now their faces were disfigured and incomplete, like a puzzle missing a piece. Only the Demon was intact, with his long tongue hanging between his lips. Sometimes, she sought comfort in the flame it would produce. Other times, the lighter stayed in her pocket because she couldn’t stand the Demon’s mockery anymore.

She flicked it in and watched the flame slowly waver. Then she turned it off and kept walking. She felt...okay. Just okay. Like the lighter’s flame, back and forth in the darkness with no real direction.

But this was the best she had felt in a long time.

Somehow, she wound up in the old trainyard, surrounded by abandoned factories and shipping crates and freights that would never roll upon the tracks again. Maybe she could sleep in the factories, if they hadn’t been turned into a homeless camp already. If her current state in life had provided her with one useful skill, it was the ability to easily sneak into buildings. When she had the energy to.

She was alone. That was nothing new. Although standing in the middle of the yard gave her an eerie feeling, as if she was being watched. She didn’t fear solitude. She feared the possibility. The possibility that she might not be alone after all.

That’s when a train suddenly came whizzing past her.

Shit. That was close. She shook her head and pulled her hands from her jacket pockets; she really needed to be more careful and watch her step. The trainyard was still active. Just right now, the track she was standing on had suddenly been lit up by a second train. She jumped to move out of the way.

She couldn’t.

Stuck.

Her foot was caught in the track.

Her eyes darted back and forth in fear, as she tried to pull her foot free. The train’s horn blared in her ears but it wouldn’t slow down. A tear rolled down her cheek. No, not like this! How could this happen!?

“Hold on!”

She squeezed her eyes shut as the train came right towards her, marking her terrible fate. But then there was a pair of arms wrapping around her and shoving her to the side. Her foot was yanked from the track and she could feel the train speed right by her as she lay on the ground, panting heavily as more tears blurred her vision.

All she could see was silver.

The next few minutes were a blur. But the two of them were now sitting on top of the nearest factory. It was a beautiful view tonight. The city skyline always was a real treat to take in, all these little lights dancing on shadowy concrete boxes. She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the moment.

She was feeling small again.

People told her she was always tall for her age. But now, she curled up into a ball, pulling her legs close and hugging her knees to her chest. The lighter fell from her pocket and lay on the roof next to her. She began to cry.

“Hey! Hey. It’s alright.”

If it weren’t for what had just happened, she’d be gawking at the stranger’s appearance. His clothes were skin tight, complete with large silver platform boots that shone under the moonlight. He had a grey cape that trailed behind him, and long wavy dark brown hair that fell just past his shoulders. His face was covered in white powder and clean black lines, decorated with more silver. She recognized his makeup. There were still bits of the Spaceman’s face visible on her light. It wasn’t the same person, though.

Speaking of the Spaceman, he reached for her lighter. “May I?”  
She just shrugged.

He picked it up and turned it each and every direction. Why, she didn’t know. It wasn’t that fascinating to look at.

“Cool lighter. I’m digging it. You like to listen to KISS?”  
She shrugged again. It was hard to feel talkative. And she couldn’t get herself to slip into her persona to try and scare him off.

“I like them. They’re my favourite band. And I’d say they’re the best band in the world, but…” the Spaceman chuckled to himself. “That’s a matter of opinion.”  
She nodded along, slowly planning her escape method in the back of her mind. But this guy had saved her life so maybe the least she could do for him was listen to his story for a while longer.

“It’s okay. Their music is not everyone’s style. We all like different music. Music is universal. It’s like a dialect, and each genre is it’s own language. But I think music is more powerful than language itself.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. Fortunately, she was starting to calm down and could think rationally again. Time to get into her persona. She wanted to shrug the Spaceman off and assume he was really a nice guy, but paranoia wouldn’t allow her.

“Music can heal in ways that words can’t. Music can touch you. Music...can save your soul.”

He held out the lighter towards her and she quickly snatched it back. They locked eyes for a moment and suddenly he seemed a bit apprehensive. Good. That’s what she wanted.

“Do you believe me when I say that music can save your soul?”  
Another shrug. That was all he’d be getting from her tonight.  
“Well, God knows it saved mine. And now I get the chance to save somebody else.”

She didn’t respond. Hell, she couldn’t even meet his gaze anymore.

“Here. I want you to have these.”

He was holding his hand out to her again. This time, it was a sticky note and a white guitar pick. She carefully took the two items from him. His skin was so smooth and warm while her hands felt like icicles.

“Whenever you’re ready, go to the address written on the paper. And bring the pick with you. Show it to the guys and they’ll understand.”

The Spaceman stood up. With his cape lingering behind him, he looked like a superhero from an old comic book. He flashed her a thumbs-up, then he jumped off the roof. She didn’t see where he went next.

She assumed that was her last encounter with the fabled Spaceman. The next day, she had him written off as a strange KISS-obsessed lunatic. But she still had the paper and the pick.

Something was gnawing at her. She couldn’t explain why.


	2. The New Kid in Town

“He’s gone!”   
“Stan, can you knock next time? We’re kind of in the middle of something-”   
“Andy flaked on us, you dumbasses! And  _ this  _ is what you’re concerned about?”

That got Stan’s two bandmates to finally look up from their instruments. One was busy tuning a bass guitar, with his curly hazelnut brown hair pulled out of the way and in a ponytail on top of his head, revealing his Demonesque makeup. The other was slightly shorter and had an electric guitar instead. His hair was black in colour, with the exception of a small strand in front of his face that was stark white. A star had been painted over his right eye.

The bassist turned behind him at the short blond with cat makeup standing in the doorway. “What do you mean by that?”   
Stan held up a note. “He left this. He said he’s done with the band.”

The guitarist coughed. “Oh great. Stan’s back on his bullshi-ACK!”   
“Shut up, Eddie!”

As Eddie rubbed at the bruise on his forehead from where a drumstick hit him, Stan unfolded the note. “Here. Read it.”

The bassist grabbed the note from Stan’s grasp, his eyes scanning over the paper. Eddie was starting to get impatient. “What? Bo, what does it say? Bo? Bo!”

“SHIT!” Bo ripped the paper in half, crumpling up one piece in each fist. Stan and Eddie both fell silent as Bo huffed, letting the paper balls fall from his hands to his feet.

Finally, Stan broke the silence. “Bo. What do you think we should do?”

It had been a week before she finally took the Spaceman up on his offer.

Using the free computers offered at a local library, she had looked up the address before planning her next move. If she had to walk there, then so be it.

The highway was a scary place to be, with each car holding the potential to run her over and end the journey before she even started. Then the sky began to grow dark and she was left to realize that it was going to take forever.

So she stuck out her thumb and hoped for the best.

A red pick-up truck was the first to stop.

“Hey miss! What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous?”   
“Can you drive me?”   
“To where?”

She showed him the address and watched the truck driver’s face study it before he nodded. “Yep. I know where that is. Hop in.”

They continued down the highway, way faster than if she were to just walk. The driver, whose name she would soon learn was Hank Chase, was a very talkative guy. As she pulled the seatbelt on, she heard a loud bark from the backseat.

Hank just chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about Taton. He’s a friendly old bugger and he’s just excited to meet you.”

She twisted around to look behind her, just as a large Doberman leaped out and began licking her face. Hank burst into booming laughter as she tried to gently push the dog off her. They eventually had to stop as traffic piled up and Taton retreated to his spot in the backseat.

“Mind if I play some music?”   
She shrugged. She didn’t have any feelings on it either way.

Hank turned on the radio. They were both greeted by the shrieking guitars, the rumbling of the bass, the heartbeat of the song in the drumline and the shrill rawness of the vocals. She thought she recognized the music.

“ _ I feel uptight on a Saturday night _ !”

Hank tapped the steering wheel along with the beat. Taton was panting in her ear.

“ _ It’s nine o’ clock, the radio’s the only light. _ ”

“Aw yeah. These guys are the real shit.” Hank grinned to himself.

She wasn’t sure how much longer it would be until they reached their destination, so she decided to let herself relax a bit. It was going to be impossible to get some sleep now anyways. She still had the paper and the pick. Both were sitting in her pocket, next to her trusty lighter.

The song continued onwards. Eventually, the guitar solo kicked in. To her ears, it was like a strangely hypnotizing lullaby. It felt familiar yet strange all at the same time. And it seemed to convince her to close her and try to doze off-

The sound of several cars horns going off in rapid succession and the sudden jerking of the truck to the side jolted her awake. Just in time for Hank to spin the steering wheel and send them right past a semi going the wrong way in the wrong lane.

“ _ I laugh out loud, ‘cause I know I’m gonna die _ .”

“Holy crap,” Hank muttered. “We were cutting it close there! We could’ve died!”

She was too shocked to say anything.

“Heh, it’s like this song said. It’s about a car crash. Almost prophetic that we were able to avoid one right after those lyrics. Almost like a sign, right?”

She reached into her pocket and grabbed the pick. “Yeah.”

They were soon off the highway and pulling into an industrial zone. It was made up with a maze of factories, stores, lofts, storage sheds, and old infrastructures falling apart.

“Five minutes,” Hank told her.   
“Actually, can you let me out here?”   
“You sure?”   
“Yes.”

The truck came to a stop and she hopped out. “Thank you so much.”   
“No biggie,” Hank told her as Taton began to howl. “Stay safe, dearie.”

Bits of coarse dirt, sheets of metal, iron rods, and God knows what other garbage crinkled under her feet. She kept walking. It felt like she was in a junkyard, but that didn’t make any sense. Who would stay here?

But she eventually found it.

A large loft which looked like several buildings slapped together. She could see light pouring through the large glass windows, indicating that there was likely someone inside. It had to be at least four stories, with a large slanted roof that allowed easy access to any buildings nearby.

This must’ve been what the Spaceman was talking about.

She felt very out of place.

She found the front door and gave it a knock. Nobody responded. She waited for about a minute and tried again. Silence.

She grabbed the doorknob and gave it a twist. The door was open. Slowly, she stepped inside and gently shut the door behind her. “Hello?”

The ground floor of the loft was one wide open space. To her left was the kitchen, with a sink, a fridge, a stovetop, and several red cabinets. In the far left corner was what looked like a living room. On the right was a door that led to the garage attached to the side of the loft. A large spiral staircase was in the centre of the room, probably to take anyone who wanted to walk up it to the higher floors.

There was KISS memorabilia strewn everywhere.

For a moment, it reminded her of her old home.

She only had the time to take one step, but a single step, before a drumstick came flying from the living room and just barely skimmed her head, smacking into the door behind her. Then a gloved hand grabbed the neckline of her shirt and she was being lifted off her own feet.

“Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”   
“Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me, please!”

The hand choking her belonged to a boy maybe about a year or so older than her, with a snarling face obscured by his makeup. It was the Demon from her lighter...well...not the same guy. But as far as she was concerned, they were both terrifying.

The pick. She remembered the pick.

She tried to reach into her pocket to pull it out, but as the Demon lifted her even higher, she dropped the pick and it rolled to a stop at the Demon’s platform boots. He stared down at it for a moment, before dropping her and treving the pick.

“This is Andy’s. Where did you get this?”   
“He gave it to me.” Was Andy the name of the Spaceman?

The Demon stuttered, as if he was about to tell her something before he quickly changed his mind. “But...wait...you met him and he...he just...he  _ gave _ this to you?”   
“Yes.”   
“When!?”   
“A week ago.”

“Bo?” A voice came from upstairs. “What’s going on?”   
“I can’t hear you. If you guys come down here, I can tell you what’s happening.”

She found herself facing two more people. All clad in KISS makeup. She had a good idea of what was going on.

“Andy left us for good,” Bo explained. “And he already chose his replacement.”

Silence.

That’s when the Catman finally spoke, clapping his hands together in mock applause. “That...is...literally what I’ve been saying for an entire week!”   
“I know.”   
“Ohhhhhh, now you believe me!”   
“Shut up, Stan.”

The Sharchild folded his arms and cocked his head. “Andy picked some homeless kid off the streets of who-knows-where? I thought that we agreed-”

“I know, Eddie! I know!” Bo was getting frustrated. He threw his hands up and groaned.

“So we’re just gonna let it slide then?” Eddie asked. His voice was coated in a slight Bronx-Italian accent. “It was his idea after all.”   
Bo shrugged. “Guess we have to.”

It was like all three of them were ignoring her. At least they weren’t trying to scare her anymore, so this was definitely an improvement.

Stan tapped her shoulder. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She hesitated. She racked her brain, thinking of a good name. For some reason, she was perfectly fine leaving her old one behind.

It dawned on her to put two names together. The nightclub whose owner had shown her some human generosity. And the dog that liked licking her face and would miss travelling with her.

“I’m Skyton Taton.”

“That’s not a real name-” Eddie insisted before Bo rammed an elbow into his stomach. The Demon held out his hand to her, this time as a gesture of peace.

“Hey Skyton. I’m Bo. And we’re Love Gun.”


	3. Rock of Ages

Skyton Taton adjusted to life in Love Gun pretty quickly. It was pretty easy when everyone around you was a similar age, kept to themselves, and all shared a very specific interest.

For a KISS tribute band, they didn’t seem to perform a lot of shows. They all spent their time lounging around the loft. Thankfully, that meant plenty of opportunities to practice. There were lots of guitars and sheet music she could borrow to try at her hand at a guitar solo. She hadn’t touched a guitar in a while and feeling the strings between her fingers was like heaven.

That’s when Skyton ran into a slight problem.

All the guitars the band owned were right-handed. And she was left-handed.

Skyton contemplated between pulling a Hendrix and holding a guitar upside down or just sucking it up and learning to play with the opposite hand. Stan had a different idea. He took several of the guitars and brought them with him into the basement where he fixed them up for her, the way he did for himself as a fellow southpaw. That was his room and lair, more or less. He liked to tinker and play the mechanic to the band. Their first night together, Stan immediately got to bragging about how he built his entire drum kit out of scratch.

She had seen the motley thing. She believed him.

Stan Hargreaves was a bit of a wild card. He mostly ignored Skyton in favour of whatever project he had in the basement. He could be quite snarky with a bit of a temper. He lurked out of view of the many cameras that seemed to be hidden in every corner of the loft. And it seemed his favourite things to do were tap his drumsticks on random surfaces and pick on Love Gun’s frontman, Eddie Towers.

Eddie was also very interesting. When he and Skyton got to properly introduce themselves to each other, the first word that came to mind about him was _diva_.

The real Starchild would be proud.

Even when he wasn’t in costume or makeup, Eddie seemed to avoid wearing a proper shirt, settling for tank tops or leotards. Also, he drank a lot of coffee. It was crazy. Every single morning, he was always one of if not the first person in the kitchen, just so he could use the coffee maker. Even then, it would be uncommon to see him without a cup in his hands. And whenever he got really worked up, his accent would be impossibly thick, making every word he’d shout a moment of pure comedy on its own. No wonder Stan enjoyed teasing him so much. When they weren’t getting into petty bickering matches.

Then there was Bo Zimmers, the bassist. Skyton immediately regarded him as the most relaxed member of the band, but also the strangest. He had weird eating habits, such as spooning mayonnaise straight from the jar. His room was opposite of Eddie’s on the third floor, but it was also very dark. She wondered how he could possibly see anything in there. He was also the tallest, easily over six feet and towering over the rest of them. Skyton was just barely taller than Stan and not much shorter than Eddie, but Bo made all of them look like children. He was really nice to her, though. Always saying good morning and asking her how her sleep was. He even helped her with her makeup, and practicing the straight silver lines the Spaceman makeup was composed of. Compared to the reference picture she had on her vanity, Skyton thought she looked really sloppy. Bo told her it would take time and practice, but she’d look just as professional some day.

Then he asked her for help setting up a Twitter account because nobody else wanted to show him and that was her first suspicion. What kind of teen didn’t know their way around social media? Skyton still showed him how to do it anyways.  
Immediately the first thing Bo did was follow the official KISS Twitter account, and the accounts of all the current band members. She had to laugh a little. God, he used Twitter like an old man.

“Don’t worry,” Bo assured her. “They’ll notice me. I think Tommy will be the first. Oh hey, would you look at that! My first DM! If you see Eddie, tell him to follow me back. Just like KISS will, once they figure it out.”

She brushed it off. Maybe Bo was just hoping. Who didn’t want their idols’s attention?

There were also a few animals within the loft. Eddie had a purple parakeet that would always sing when somebody walked by her cage. Apparently there was a two-headed snake living in Bo’s room. Skyton was perfectly fine never meeting it. There was also a small stray kitten that used to live in the loft, but ran away when Andy left and nobody had seen her since.

Then there were the cameras. Sometimes, somebody would say something, then slowly trailed off as they looked up to find a camera hanging over their heads. Skyton had yet to figure out who set them all up. Or why.

After two weeks in the loft, Eddie stepped outside to collect the mail and came back inside with a big announcement. They finally had a gig. Skyton tried to act excited along with the others while internally, she was freaking out a little. A concert? In front of people?

“Finally!” Stan tossed a drumstick in the air and caught it, lazily propping his feet on top of a nearby chair. “I’m getting kinda bored just lounging around here. Eddie’s ego takes up way too much room.”  
“Well, I’m just glad we’re finally getting you outside for the first time in three weeks,” Eddie snickered.  
“What are you talking about? I went outside yesterday to get the mail.”  
“No you didn’t.”  
“Yes I did!”  
“Doesn’t count!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bo cut off the argument before it could escalate. “When’s the gig, Eddie?”  
“This Saturday. At the Dakota Tavern.” Eddie sounded really impressed with the venue. “Wait, do they serve alcohol?”

Bo tapped his fingers against the table. “That gives us a few days to get everything together. We should probably check the amps and make sure they’re all in working condition.”  
“They should be,” Stan muttered. “I just fixed up the bass amp. So if you break it again, that’s on you and not me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, what would we ever do without you, Hargreaves? Ever quite the asset to our humble tribute band?”

“ _Жопа_.”  
“Wanna repeat that in English, _coglione_?”

“Okay, let’s leave the foreign cuss words out of this!” Bo dropped his head in his hands. “Just go get ready, guys.” “But it isn’t until Saturday-” “Eddie, I am literally five seconds away from snapping your neck right now.”

For Skyton, that was a pretty typical morning interaction. And Eddie hadn’t poured his first cup of coffee yet.

She threw herself hard into practicing, nailing every little note of as many guitar solos as possible, and doing it while awkwardly dancing in platform heels. Standing? Easy. Walking? Took some time, but she figured it out. At least she could so without looking like a newborn baby giraffe. High kicks? Extravagant moves? All while shredding the heart out of a guitar? Yeahhhhhhhhh, Skyton had no intention of breaking a bone during her first ever gig. But she couldn’t just stand there motionless. That wasn’t in the job description.

She found herself lying on her bed in her room. The loft was four floors, with the rather large and spacious attic having been converted into another bedroom. Bo had been really apologetic about giving it to her, but Skyton actually liked the place. There was a huge window that took up nearly a third of her wall and gave her an amazing view of the city skylines. But something wasn’t sitting right with her.

It was the cameras.

Thankfully her room was free from them, but there was one right above the stairs she had to take to get downstairs. She swore that its lens followed her every movement, judged her as she practiced, a bitter reminder that maybe she wasn’t good enough for this band. Eventually, Skyton couldn’t take it anymore and found herself taking the stairs all the way down the basement. Sure enough, she found the Catman there like she was expecting. Stan was hunched over a workbench, playing with some metal scraps and hammers.

“Piss off, Eddie.”  
“I’m not Eddie.”  
“Oh shit. Sorry Skyton. What’s up?”

Skyton awkwardly folded her hands together, her fingers interlocking with each other. “This might sound kind of weird, but...is there anywhere in here...that doesn’t have a camera?”  
Stan tapped his chin. “Huh? Why?”  
“I just...I don’t like...I feel like I’m being watched. It’s kinda creepy.”

Stan seemed to get the hint. “Ohhhhhh. Okay, I get it now. Follow me.”

He led her out of the basement and to the ground floor. But at the top of the stairs, he veered sharply to the right, to a small door painted cornflower blue that wasn’t really hidden, but barely worth noticing on a passing glance. Stan opened it to reveal concrete walls that extended all the way up to the top of the loft with some stairs running up the sides. And another camera. Stan just threw one of his drumsticks as hard as he could. It embedded itself into the camera, which listed forward spilling small sparks of electricity everywhere. Its wires hung out and slowly swayed left and right.

Stan didn’t seem the least bit concerned with the destroyed camera, simply picking up his drumstick without a second thought. “This way.”

Up the stairs they went. There was no other direction to travel anyways; there were no doors or stops at a different floor. At the very top, there was just a ceiling with a hatch waiting. Stan grabbed the hatch and yanked it down to reveal a ladder.

“What’s up there?”

Stan winked. “The best spot in the whole damn city to get away from everything.”

Climbing up the ladder was certainly a surprise. Because now they were standing on the roof of the loft.

As they took in the cool night breeze and lights of the city, Stan just grinned. “Nice, isn’t it? I used to come up here all the time. Sometimes it feels like I can just jump off and run across the rooftops.”  
“Can you?” Skyton asked.  
“Eh, probably not. Unless you wanna break a leg.”

They sat down on the slanted roof. Above them, the stars could just barely be seen behind wisps of clouds, slowly drifting about in the sky.

“This is pretty cool,” Skyton muttered.

“Yeah. It is.” Stan tucked his arms behind his head. “I’m a city boy but damn, it gets annoying sometimes. So loud and noisy.”

Skyton would have to agree with him on that. At least life on Love Gun was slightly quieter. But any place where she had a roof over her head and an opportunity to shower and food on the table, she’d happily take.

“You know what I like the best?”  
“What?” Stan asked her.  
“I can see the stars.”

In the city, all the streetlights and smog and pollution usually blocked them from her view. Skyton had been so sick of it, to the point where she actually missed the clear sky. Her uncle used to remind her that no matter where they’d be in the world, they were always standing under the same moon. She liked to think that way, even if it didn’t seem to be true anymore.

They continued to just lie there, watching the stars. And Skyton decided that she liked Stan. Not in that way of course, but they could both get along. They were on surprisingly similar wavelengths, in a sense. He was different from his bandmates, but in a way she could understand.

And he seemed to notice. After a few moments of silence, Stan rolled over onto his side, then reached out and poked Skyton with his drumstick. “Yeah. You’re cool.” “I’m...I’m cool?” “Yeah.”

Stan gave her a grin that when paired with his makeup, reminded her of a cheeky Chesire cat. “You’re pretty alright. Andy’s got a good eye when it comes to picking out band members, Also, don’t worry about the guitars or whatever because no matter what you do, you’re still gonna sound way better than Eddie. Asshole refuses to let me patch any of his equipment. I could do a better job than what he does!”

Skyton cocked her head to the side. “Why do you pick on him so much?”  
“‘Cause it’s fun.”  
“But he’s your bandmate.” “

He’s just the guy with the loudest voice,” Stan sneered. “And I’m the one at the very back. So if I didn’t make fun of him every chance I get, ‘cause not like he doesn’t make fun of me, I have failed my duties as a drummer.”

“Oh.” Skyton didn’t get it. “So it’s just...like...playing around?”  
“Mhm. And then when his accent comes out, it’s hilarious.”

Stan quickly perked up, then puffed his chest out, dropping into a sudden Eddie impression. “ _Ah, fawh cryin' out loud, Stan! Leave me alone here! Okay? Just shut your trap and get behind dat damn drum set, yuh…_ ” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Shoot. I don’t know any Italian cuss words.”

Skyton burst out into laughter.

Stan continued. “ _Dis stoopid speakuh, it's gonna break on me. No Stan, I doan need your help. Yuh with me? I'm just gonna freakin' smash it wit' my guitar. Yeah that's right, I'm dat badass. Where's de cawhfee machine? I need some cawhfee_!”

“Oh my God,” Skyton wiped a tear from her eye, careful not to smudge her makeup. “He does drink a lot of coffee though.”  
Stan just nodded as he slipped back into my normal voice. “He does, yeah. We ordered a new shipment of beans last month and I haven’t touched any of them.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Look, I’m not waking up at 5 in the morning to beat him to the kitchen.”

They both laughed a bit before dropping into silence again. And Skyton felt way better than she had before. Any worries on her shoulders were starting to melt away.

Then before she knew it, it was time for her first gig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute rooftop bonding time! Because everyone knows that the best way to grow closer is to make fun of your other bandmates. And now they've got their first gig.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Feedback is greatly appreciated and tells me which part of the story you like. Thanks for reading!


	4. Shout It Out Loud

They shouldn’t be here.

As far as Skyton was concerned, the Dakota Tavern was no place for a little crew of teenagers. After all, it was a bar. And they weren’t old enough to drink.

Well, only Stan was. When Skyton learned he was nineteen, two years older than her, it surprised her more than it should have. And Eddie was actually sixteen, a bit younger than she was. She honestly thought she’d be the baby of the band.

At eighteen years old, Bo still seemed to be the “adult” of the group, maturity wise. As they carried their instruments and equipment into the bar, he talked to the people outside and convinced them to let the band in.

Something about that seemed...off. Skyton couldn’t quite put her finger on it. To not be the youngest in a group that acted like they were old friends who knew each other for years? They were teenagers, barely old enough to be out and about on their own. Hell, as long as they all kept their mouths shut, nobody here would know how young they were.

That was not her problem. That was not tonight’s big focus. Right now, she wanted to go inside as a howling wind picked up behind her.

Inside was much warmer. Instantly, Skyton was aware of just how stupid they probably all looked, with their makeup and costumes. God, she felt so out of place. Was anybody looking at her? How could they not?

“Huh.” Stan took in the surroundings. “I thought I’d been in here before, but guess not. Nice quaint little place.”   
“Y-yeah it is.” Eddie was suddenly nervous, speaking just barely above a whisper. He never whispered. His gaze was slowly drifting over to the counter, where a bartender was prepping a cocktail. He shivered and looked away.

Was Eddie getting a bout of pre-show jitters? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy. If anything, it should’ve been Skyton, not him. Oh, she was nervous too, but trying to hide it. This...this was going to be fun. After all, it was just playing a set in a bar in front of a local audience. While being one of the youngest people in the room. No pressure or anything…

She still nudged Eddie’s arm with her elbow. “Are you okay?”   
“Who, me? Yeah, I’m fine!” Eddie grinned. His accent was starting to come out a little more, a sign that he was starting to get worked up.

Then Bo was behind them and placed a hand on Eddie’s back. “Hey. Relax. We’re only here to do our show, just one set, and then we’ll leave. Don’t look at it, alright?”   
“Yeah.” Then tension in the Starchild’s shoulders melted away. His accent was gone.

Stan was already on stage, setting up. And man was that stage tiny. It had enough room for all four of them at least, provided they kept their speakers and amps as far off to the side as possible.

By the time everything was in place, a small crowd of somewhat disinterested patrons, drinks in hand, were watching the stage.

It was showtime.

And what a showtime it was.

The second they started up with their opening song, any fears Skyton had were gone. Instantly. She could’ve snapped her fingers and her nerves had vanished. What was there to be scared about? This was fun! Exciting! Exhilarating!

And the crowd grew in size, until pretty much every patron was either right by the stage, or watching them perform. It gave her such a rush. They wanted to see her. They wanted her to shine.

When Skyton broke into a guitar solo, the cheers began. They were small and quiet, but noticeable. It felt so good.

They didn’t perform for very long, only for half an hour. But as they finished their last song ( _ Sure Know Something _ because Eddie insisted and Skyton just rolled with it), the applause lasted long after the instruments were done playing and there was nothing left to be sung.

_ Holy crap, _ Skyton thought to herself. If this was what every single gig was like, then this job was probably the easiest money she ever made!

The second the applause died down, the patrons resumed their conversations back at their tables. Instantly, Love Gun wasn’t interesting anymore. Skyton couldn’t have cared less. What mattered to her were those 30 minutes of pure bliss and ecstasy and adrenaline where all people wanted was to see her. She was all smiles and she couldn’t even explain why.

Stan threw an arm around her shoulder, holding a glass of something in his other hand. “Wellllll,  _ somebody’s _ in a good mood tonight.”   
“That was fun.”   
“Hell yeah it was. And we get paid for it too! Want me to get you a drink?”

Skyton rolled her eyes. “I’m seventeen, Stan.”   
“That wasn’t a no.”

“Let’s roll out, guys!” Bo tapped Stan on the shoulder. “Got your stuff packed up?”   
“I’m always the first guy ready. Someone go grab Eddie’s lazy ass.”   
“Be nice. We’re in public.”

Skyton giggled and squeezed herself past her two bandmates. Eddie was lounging by the door, clutching his guitar tightly to his chest. The moment they made eye contact, Eddie broke out into a sly grin, as if he was slipping into his onstage persona.

Skyton decided not to point out that she noticed. “Hey. Is everything alright?”   
“I’m fine. Just waiting for the other guys to stop horsing around so we can leave. I need a goddamn coffee.”   
Eddie was whispering again, but Skyton just laughed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “You always need a coffee.”   
“I like coffee.”

But Bo and Stan were done doing whatever and soon they were all standing outside. The wind had stopped, but night had fallen. And it was cold. Yet Skyton didn’t even notice. She was still hopped on up adrenaline. And Eddie was already trying to convince the others to stop at the nearest cafe, so he could grab his precious coffee. They jostled each other into the street, ignoring the nearby rush of cars, the changing of the traffic lights, the looming buildings of glass and concrete-

Bo spotted them first. “Shit.”   
“What?” Stan poked the bassist in the arm. “Hey. What is it?”   
“Those guys again. I thought…”

Bo trailed off, then he suddenly flung an arm over Skyton. “Okay. Here’s what you’re gonna do. Just look forward and keep walking. You’re gonna see them as we pass by, but don’t look. Don’t say anything. Don’t get them to notice you. They’re trouble.”

Skyton nodded. She understood entirely. After all, she spent months pretending she didn’t want to be seen by anyone.

They all put their heads down. Skyton just stared at her boots as she shuffled along in an attempt to keep up with her band members, until Eddie whispered in her ear that it was now okay to look up again.

“They’re gone. Now let’s go. Starbucks is literally a block away.”   
“I thought you didn’t like Starbucks,” Stan muttered.   
“I don’t. But they have-”

“Coffee. Yeah. We know.” Stan waved his hand in the frontman’s face with a smirk. “You’d have sex with a cup of joe if you could.”   
“That’s weird.”   
“ _ You’re _ weird.”

Bo just sighed as the bickering continued.

Sure enough, Love Gun took refuge inside the nearby Starbucks, bracing themselves for the impact of the cold once they inevitably were kicked out. Eddie had his hands wrapped around his drink so tightly one would think it was like a valuable material to him, not some overpriced coffee.

“Do you remember that little shop on Front Street that had all the lattes?” Stan asked. “Damn shame they closed down in like, 2003. Now  _ that _ was a place that knew how to make a good cup of coffee.”

Skyton gave Stan a side eye. “2003? That’s almost sixteen years ago.”   
“Yeah. Your point is?”

Bo quickly cut in. “Sorry, Skyton. I think he forgot you’re new.”   
“Yeah, but...in 2003, Stan, you were how old? Three? How were you drinking coffee by then?”

Skyton realized that she actually sounded pretty ridiculous. Bo just laughed, Stan rolled his eyes, and Eddie pretended to be very interested in the bottom of his empty paper cup. Then Bo told her not to worry about it.

Something was off with her band members, Skyton deduced. They were a lot more complex than she thought.

Five days later, Bo went to fetch the mail and found a strange black letter with white ink on it. It was summoning them to New York City for yet another gig, although under mysterious circumstances.


End file.
